They had four fingers in when I felt my orgasm start to build. They sensed it as well and forced their whole fist in, a pain rocking my body. "Ahhh!" ... cried, tears rolling down my face. "Please, I'm not used to fisting!" They fisted harder and deeper, my orgasm at breaking point. My sweet cum spurted over their fists as I cried out in pleasure and pain, but they didn't stop. They only added their other fists. The pain was too much, my vision was going black, and the orgasms were rocking my. That Friday night I meandered over to the bar completely unaware that it catered to the leather/bear community. I arrived at about nine p.m. and nervously approached the bar counter. I ordered a beer and sat quietly observing the clientele. I was very surprised by the men frequenting this establishment.At college, the obvious gay crowd was referred to as; ‘The Pussy-Boys.’ They were all very camp and one could also discern their presence by the overpowering reek of some or other, ‘in vogue’. More

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